Putting It Back Together
by Kitsa
Summary: After the events of Exit Wounds, Gwen has some explaing to do to Rhys.


Putting It Back Together

"Why?" he asked, trying for calm. It had been a month since the world was turned on its head, a month of tears and cleaning up, and neither of them seeing as much of each other as they'd like. And when they did, it wasn't a quiet night with each other anymore. No, it was pizza on the threadbare couch in that comic book bunker of theirs (Sorry, love, the Rift monitors are on the blink, can't leave, but Jack says come on. Oh, could you pick up the pizza? We're a bit off Jubilee at the moment, there's a love). Or doubling with Jack and Ianto over at the curry place down the quay, (I'll be their, I promise. Do you mind if they join us? We've been out hunting all day and not had a bite, say you don't mind, say it.) Now for the first time since all hell had let loose over Cardiff his wife was home and cooking and she wanted to have them to dinner. Rhys didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He felt as if they hadn't had a proper evening together since the day after the disaster, like they hadn't stopped running.

"What do you mean, why? They're friends, nothing wrong with having friends to dinner is there?" Gwen answered, her voice brittle, falsely bright.

"No, there isn't but I don't see you inviting Banana round eh?"

Gwen sighed. She didn't want to have this conversation, even though she knew she probably should, but she was just tired. "It's different…"

"Yeah, it's different. Look, Gwen, sweetheart, I know you lot have been through some serious shit, yeah. I'm proud, bloody proud now that I've gotten over the screaming terror. I haven't asked you to quit or anything because I know what you do is important but it's just…"

"They need me," she said.

"I need you too."

"You don't understand."

"After everything that's happened? Try me," Rhys said a bit more harshly than he meant.

Gwen took a deep breath and tried to put her thoughts together. It had been hard, getting everything back in order. Sorting through Owen's and Tosh's belongings, trying to keep going, do their jobs, but perhaps the hardest thing was Jack. It had taken a week for her to really notice, another for her to understand, or as much as she could, what he had been through dying, lying buried in the soil for longer than she could imagine. At first he had been clingy, reluctant to let Ianto or even her far out of his sight.

Ianto had left the tourist office front closed and stayed beneath, understanding far better than her. He had given up all pretense that he and Jack were less than partners, allowing himself to be touched, only going home for clothes and only when he could either drag Jack with him, or when he knew she would be there. Poor Ianto, the youngest of them and yet it was his strength that Jack leaned on.

How could she explain this all to her blessedly normal husband, that Jack needed to remember what normal life was, what it was he fought and died for? She thought about the first time she had stood in the Hub, clutching her camouflage pizzas while Jack made her see how much bigger the world really was. Rhys had helped them save the world, surely he deserved the same understanding. Maybe she couldn't keep trying to protect him.

"What did you see at the warehouse after those bombs went off?" she said, taking a page from Jack's book. He was right, she hadn't got tired of following him.

"What do you mean, what did I see? Bloody great pile of rubbish that you could have been in, that's what I saw. Lucky no one was killed."

"Someone was," she said, "What did you see?"

"You mean Jack? Lucky man, I don't know CPR. For a moment I thought he was a goner, til he started breathing on his own. Must have just been stunned or…"

"Rhys, what did you _see_?"

"He revived…"

"No, what did you _see_?"

"Gwen, it can't…I saw him come back to life but that doesn't happen, not in real life. Does it?"

"Yes, it does, if it's Jack it does."

"What, you make out like he's some sort of…"

"Jack can't die. Or at least he can't stay dead. They took him back two thousand years and buried him in the ground but he can't die. Now do you understand? He had to lay there, worrying about getting back and saving us, no knowing what was happening, unable to move, just in the ground, living, dying, coming back, over and over. And Rhys, it _hurts_ him! He told us once it was like crawling over broken glass. Worse, he felt like he deserved it, served it like some kind of bloody penance for not being able to save everyone. So if we have to give up a little of our time to remind him what we did it for, is that price too high?" Gwen was crying now, tears running down her face and she looked at him uncertainly. For a moment there was only silence as they looked at each other. Then Rhys pulled her to him in a kiss of wonder and understanding.

Rhys didn't know what to say to her after that, all he could do was be there and reassure her. He had gone from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other in the space of a breath. Anger at Jack for putting her in danger when there was none for him, awe, fear, and finally horror at what had happened, at what it meant left him none too steady on his pins, but looking at her, he knew he would do whatever was necessary to be whatever she, whatever they needed. "Go get some more wine then, shall I? Or would they prefer beer?" he asked, letting go and fishing for his car keys. It was little enough to give back.


End file.
